The Poetry Marathon

My real life began a few short days ago when I became a grandmother for the first time. I’ve had practice as a “step-step grandparent to 4 boys. I am married to the love of my life and have three grown children. I am a supervisor of special education programs in Cadillac, Michigan.  I would retire, except I honestly cannot think of a better or more rewarding profession.

This is my third poetry marathon and although I still cringe at my early morning poems, they have provided a springboard for some amazing creativity.

Although I can’t remember a time that I didn’t write, I have come into my own through the poetry marathon and subsequent poetry group, Some Poets. I am producing a one night poetry reading on September 30th for the “Night of 100 Thousand Poets” non-profit group for social change. (If you are going to be in the Cadillac area on 9/30, please let me know. There is mic time available.)

Life is wonderful.

The sleep of the dead,

Begins as others awake.

Still, dreamless slumber

Restores the deprivation.

This lack of sleep –

Slowly, dreams begin

A thin coat of sweat covers me.

The sun makes its appearance known,

Prying through my eyelids.

Sounds of life outside –

Dogs, a lawn mower, stray spoken words –

Waking, the day is missed.

Wake up and welcome!

Come in to renew.

This is a safe place

To say what’s important to say.

Non-judgemental and empathetic friends,

Spend lonely hours of the night

Talking, laughing

Sharing, caring

Painting word pictures,

With every key stroke made.

Beautifully smart people –

Talented, too.

So talented.

The Some Poets messenger group.

A chat room of support, commeraderie

Laughter and tears.

The night is for releasing

Our day’s stress as we breathe

The night is for snuggling

Together, limbs entwined

The night is for sleeping

Under darkened skies.

Dear Laurie

It has come to.my attention that you have enjoyed the Poetry Marathon thus far. Congratulations on your strong start.  Your confidence was evident in the early writings.  Unfortunately, you faltered on the Pantoum and your writings have progressively deteriorated from this point.

Early morning has brought with it a change in perspective and alertness.  Your attention to detail is waning.  Your typing has slowed, causing confusion to your fellow poets in the chat group.  I hope you are enjoying the early morning.

You have the ability to rally and finish strong.  I expect nothing less.

Sincerely,

Tillie G

Serenely, calmly walking

The girl-child, bear and fox.

They syncopate their steps

As they make their rhythmic way

Through the city of Angels.

All three are wild

In their own brazen ways.

Yet, also goal-oriented,

Motivated to reach their destination

Together on the album cover.

How are you?

I am.

This is enough.

I didn’t choose.

I was chosen.

I am.

A baby Platypus that needs to be adopted,
Should be adopted,
To a good looking and funny boy,
Who is the son of smart woman.

The Platypus is a shy animal.
It needs to be loved unconditionally to be brought out of its shell,
Even though it doesn’t have a shell,
Except before it is born and is in an egg.

A Platypus may also need an Otter for a companion.

It’s odd because, you see

I’ve always kept my heart to me.

I knew my body, heart and mind

And handled love, cruel and kind

With empathetic respect

So no one would suspect

That even the closest of affairs

Ended and I didn’t care.

Love as emotion, I thought it to be,

Not a state of being, like living free.

So by the time I understood

That real love was true and good,

I was empowered by the thought:

Love is real. It can’t be bought.

Love became the lens of feelings

Leaving all the senses reeling.

Heart break for me came too late.

I came to feel that is was fate.

By exposing your heart to love so true

Leaves you lonely, sad and blue.

But exposing your heart to love that’s real,

Is worth all the feelings that you feel.

In the midnight hours, I search.

Wisps of memory confuse me

Shrouding the truth

Distorting the lies

I experience Alice in Wonderland syndrome

Smaller

Bigger

No where near

What I need.

In the midnight hours, I search.